Breaking Protocol (Firehouse Fourteen Book 3) (6 page)

Seconds went by, silently stretching into minutes. Their ragged breaths mingled, echoing around them, becoming one, slowing as waves turned into gentle ripples that lapped at their joined bodies.

CC closed her eyes, breathing hard, her hands slowly relaxing against his shoulders. She felt his mouth close over hers in a soft, lingering kiss, felt his forehead drop and rest against her shoulder. His arms shook around her but his grip remained strong on the ladder, anchoring them in place as their bodies floated, weightless, in the water.

"Jesus." Dave's voice was barely a whisper, his breath hot against her neck as another shudder ran through him. Or maybe her, she couldn't tell. She smiled, turned her head and dropped a kiss on his temple, sighing.

Minutes continued to stretch around them, neither of them moving, content to remain suspended in each other's arms. Another shiver went through her, this one from the chill of the water against their skin. Dave shifted and she moaned at his loss, felt his lips press against her neck before he moved away.

She opened her eyes, her heart skipping when she saw him smiling at her, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly at the corners. The breath hitched in her chest at the sight and she reached out, the tips of her fingers tracing the lines of his mouth.

"You have a beautiful smile."

He smiled again, briefly, before he kissed the tips of her fingers. Their eyes met and held, a thousand wordless thoughts passing between them in the space of a heartbeat. She smiled, lowered her hand, reached around and squeezed his tight ass. Then she turned and grabbed the ladder, climbing up on shaking legs. She grabbed her towel and handed the other to Dave as he reached the pier and stood next to her.

Water dripped from his body, all hard planes and muscle. She swallowed, content to watch as he rubbed the towel across his body. Then she smiled and turned away, heading back to the house. "I'm starving. Do you want something to eat?"

His laughter, low and melting, filled her with warmth as he followed her into the house.

The early light of dawn drifted into the room, filtered through the curtains billowing in the cool breeze. He should still be asleep, he thought. Burrowed under the covers, his skin chilled.

He was anything but.

He shifted, stretching out along the bed, the heat of CC's body warming him. She was on her stomach, lying perpendicular to him, her legs stretched across his lap, her head and arms almost hanging off the other side of the bed. He ran his hand up her leg, smiling at her soft moan as he rubbed her ass. Then he ran his hand back down, his fingers kneading the heavy muscle of her thigh, tickling the sensitive spot behind her knee, further down to the mangled spot that used to be a shapely calf.

Both hands cradled her leg, rubbing at the torn flesh and rough scar tissue, alternating between hard pressure and gentle caress. He leaned down and pressed his lips against the deep hollow where flesh had been sewn over missing muscle, heard her sigh softly at the touch.

"Most guys freak out when they see it." Her voice was a whisper, nearly lost against the thick comforter. A spurt of anger, unexpected and surprising, surged through him.

"I'm not most guys."

"No." She shifted, looking over her shoulder at him, a soft smile on her peaceful face. "No, you're not."

He grunted, making her chuckle before she rested her head against the edge of the mattress and closed her eyes. His hands continued stroking her leg in gentle circles.

"When did it happen?"

"About three years ago, just outside Bagram."

"IED?"

She made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh and shook her head, giving him a half-smile. "Not every mangled limb is from an IED, you know."

"Yeah, I do know."

Her eyes softened, became serious as she watched him. She reached back with her hand and squeezed his arm. "Yeah, I guess you do."

He looked away, knowing she was seeing too much, much more than he wanted her to see. For now. For now? He gave himself a mental shake. No, not just for now—forever.

Dave shifted again, resumed massaging her leg, and let out a deep breath. "So, not an IED."

"Bullet fire. We were moving equipment when we were ambushed. Everyone dove for cover. You'd think for as small as I am, I wouldn't have trouble finding a hiding place." She laughed, but the sound was forced, almost bitter.

"So you took bullet fire into your leg."

"Yeah, well. It was better than letting them tear into the soldier I was taking care of."

Jesus. He closed his eyes, the scene vivid in his mind, only because he had lived it too often in real life. Patching up wounds, praying for the best, wishing you could do more. The sudden burst of machine gun fire, the whine of bullets spraying, the dull thud and screams when they found their target.

Throwing yourself over the patient, protecting them with your own body, doing what you had to do to get them out alive. Or at least get them out so they had a chance.

His hands stilled for a minute, then resumed their slow massage.

"So what was your MOS? Health Care Specialist?" He wasn't sure why he asked, fairly certain that she was going to answer yes. It would fit, given her training. But that didn't mean she would have been safer, because women were only marginally safer in the desert. No, they still didn't serve in the infantry back then, weren't in the middle of the battle.

But that only worked when the battleground was clearly drawn, something that hadn't been clear for too many years now.

He heard her laugh, looked up in surprise to see a small smile tilt one corner of her mouth before she answered. "Not quite. 94 Echo."

Dave paused, thinking he hadn't heard her correctly. His brows pulled down in a frown and he stared at her. "You did radio and communications repair?"

"Yup. Not what you were expecting, was it?"

"What the hell were you doing over there repairing electronics, especially with your qualifications?"

"Because I wanted to broaden my horizons when I joined the Reserves, learn something new just in case I wanted a career change down the line."

"And yet you still nearly got killed saving someone."

"Yeah, well, old habits kicked in." She closed her eyes and turned her head away, but not before he saw the flash of pain cross her face. He sighed and tightened his hands around her calf, then moved her legs and shifted so he was lying beside her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"He didn't make it, did he?" It was a statement more than a question, his voice quiet because he already knew the answer. She breathed in deeply, let her breath out slowly, and shook her head, the movement barely perceptible. His arms tightened around her and he just held her, knowing there was nothing else he could say or do.

They stayed that way for long minutes, their bodies warm despite the cool gentle breeze coming through the open windows. Dave closed his eyes, not thinking, not worrying, just feeling.

At ease. Content in just this moment.

CC turned in his arms so she was facing him, her head tucked against his shoulder, her hand tracing lazy circles around his chest, down to his stomach, back up again. He had been half-hard for the last hour, despite their topic of conversation. Her touch rectified that instantly, and he felt her smile against his chest. Her fingers skimmed along his breastbone, their touch feather light as they moved lower, lower until she traced his length with one short, neatly manicured nail.

He sucked his breath in with a sharp hiss when her hand closed around him, her grip sure, her strokes long and steady. She pushed up on her elbow, the ends of her long hair teasing his chest, then leaned over. Over, down, until her mouth closed over him.

His hands fisted in the comforter beneath him, his hips thrusting up, urging her to take more of him. The wet heat of her mouth surrounded him, sucking, nipping. He moaned her name then could think of nothing else, his mind suddenly blank, empty of everything except mindless pleasure, mindless need.

And CC wouldn't stop, her hands stroking his legs, cupping his balls as she sucked, teased, licked. Dave moaned and thrust his hips up, once, twice. He reached down and threaded his fingers in her hair, the silky strands wrapping around his hands. He was torn between holding her in place and thrusting deeper, harder into her mouth.

Or pulling her up and thrusting deep into another tight, inviting, warmth.

She wrested the decision away from him, wrapping her arms around his thighs, holding him in place.

Imprisoning him.

Her mouth worked its magic, hot, slick, as she sucked. Her tongue swirled around the head of his swollen cock before she lowered herself on him, taking all of him, the suction of her mouth squeezing, urging.

He thrust his hips once more, his hands tightening against her head as he exploded, filling her mouth. He lay back on the bed, his chest heaving, expecting her to pull away.

But she didn't stop, just swallowed and kept sucking, her mouth gentling, her touch easing until he thought he'd go insane from the sensation. She moaned, a soft breath against his thigh, then kissed her way back up his body. He tightened his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him, then ran his hands along her back, up through her hair.

He pulled her mouth down against his, kissing her deeply, thoroughly, before pulling away with a sigh. His eyes drifted to her hair, watching the play of light through the silky strands, turning it into shades of gold and honey.

"Your hair is so beautiful."

She smiled and leaned forward, dropping a kiss on his chin before resting her head on his chest. His arms came around her once more, his hand drawing lazy circles on her back.

And he realized that not once since he had met CC for ice cream last night had stress or worry over anything bothered him. Not once had thoughts of anonymous text messages or threats crossed his mind.

And he realized he could stay here for hours, just like this, with nothing more important than holding CC in his arms. God, how he wished he could. For right now, for this moment in time, he wanted nothing more.

CC pushed up from her spot against his chest, her hazel eyes meeting his. "Hm. Why do I think I'm losing you already?"

He leaned up and pressed a kiss against her lips. "No. Not losing."

"Maybe." She softened the doubt that laced her simple word with a smile, her gaze still steady on his. Then she sighed and rolled off him, her momentum taking her to the edge of the bed until she lowered her legs off the side and stood up. The action was so smoothly done, so quick and efficient that Dave smiled again.

He rolled to his side, watching as she rounded the bed and walked toward the bathroom, her shapely ass bared to his gaze, bathed in early morning light. She glanced over her shoulder and grinned, then closed the door.

Disappointment surged through him at the loss of view.

At the loss of her.

He rolled to his back and scrubbed his hands over his face, staring up at the ceiling fan. The blades turned in a slow hypnotic circle, their lazy rotation lulling him into a trance.

The sound of running water came through the closed door and Dave tilted his head, listening. It sounded like the sink, not the shower.

Which was a shame, because he wouldn't have minded joining CC in the shower. Yeah, he would have definitely volunteered to scrub her back for her.

What the hell was he doing? He shook his head and called himself every kind of fool. He didn't need to be lounging in her bed, thinking of ways to convince her to come back in and join him. He was certain she had things to do, just like he did.

Like getting a new cell phone to replace the one he had shattered yesterday.

Cold fingers of reality danced across his skin, chilling him. He cursed then pushed himself off the bed, walking toward the overstuffed chair where he had thrown his clothes when they had come inside last night.

He tugged on his jeans, wincing as he adjusted himself before pulling on the zipper. Christ, how could he still be semi-hard, after last night? After this morning? He shook his head and yanked on his shirt, then sat down on the chair and shook out his socks before putting them on.

Where were his shoes? He looked around, wondering what he had done with them, then looked up when the bathroom door opened.

CC leaned against the doorway, watching him with a small smile on her face. She was wearing a baggy pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt.

And no bra. Dave swallowed, trying not to notice the full breasts that pushed against the loose material. His face heated and he looked away, clearing his throat.

CC laughed and walked over to him, resting a hand on each side of the chair before leaning down and kissing him. She pulled away too soon and straightened. "Your shoes are on the back porch. I'll go get them for you."

Dave followed her out of the room and out to the back porch, part of his mind still wondering what excuse he could use to stay. Just for a little longer—

CC stopped so suddenly, he nearly slammed into her back and had to put his hand against the screen door to stop himself. Her body stilled, becoming tense and alert in the space of heart beat. She turned and put her hand in middle of his chest, pushing him back into the house with such force he stumbled.

"What the—"

"Get back, now." She pushed again, still not looking at him. Her attention was riveted at a spot near the exterior porch door, her own alertness seeping into him. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he tried to peer over her shoulder, wondering what in the hell had caused the sudden change in her.

She took a step back and collided against his chest. Dave's arms came up instinctively to grab her shoulders but she shrugged them off and turned toward him. A frown creased her forehead as she looked up at him, her clear eyes cold and remote.

"Is there something you maybe want to tell me, Big Guy?

Icy dread blew through Dave's stomach but he wasn't sure why. He started to shake his head, stopped, then leaned past CC to see what had caused her sudden change.

A fist knotted his gut, twisting with razor-sharp dread.

Wedged against the door, propped against his shoes, was a small poster board-size sheet of paper, splattered in what looked like blood. And scrawled across the page, in bold letters, were the words he had become too familiar with over the last eight months.

I know what you did.